Everything to Everyone
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: They all see something different when they look at Dean. Outsider POVs.


**Everything to Everyone**  
K Hanna Korossy

It wasn't the worst accident he'd seen; not by a longshot. At least this guy would probably survive. But it was still pretty bad.

Ron worked his way through the wreckage of what had been some nice wrought-iron tables and chairs once, to the car that was turned on its side and mashed up against the café's brick wall. Only the head and one shoulder of the young twenties male vic was visible under the wreckage, the rest disappearing under the passenger door of the Toyota. Ron heard Georgie head around to the other side, assess from there and start figuring out with the 12th Company guys how to get the car off the kid. His job was at this end.

The kid was good-looking even under the blood, dark-haired, face pale. Probably had just been sitting here having a coffee before class or something, hadn't even known what had hit him. Ron crouched down beside him and started checking vitals. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The kid's brows flexed and his head rolled fractionally. Ron quickly reached to steady it with one hand, got a collar out with the other.

"Sir? Can you hear me?"

Eyelashes fluttered. Looked like green eyes underneath, dazed, pupils wide. Probable head injury in all this mess. "Deee—" he groaned.

"Take it easy, try not to move. Can you tell me your name, sir?"

A slow blink. The kid was trying to process, which was a good sign. "Sam." His eyes shut again. "Dean?"

Multiple choice? Ron's mouth tweaked despite the situation. "Okay, Sam, my name's Ron. I'm a paramedic and I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?" He kept working, checking what he could, doing what he could. There was already the sound of machinery working on the other side of the car.

"Dean." Sam's head rocked as much as it could in the collar. He was starting to feel the pain, and that would only get worse before it got better. "Dean. Dean."

"Easy, Sam. We'll get Dean here as soon as we can, okay? Can you answer some questions for me?"

But all he got was, "Dean." The kid was too out of it, not hearing Ron. Ron grimly pressed his mouth shut and kept working, asking questions that weren't answered, wishing he had this Dean there to keep his increasingly restless patient calm. Whispers turned into moans, then a scream as they finally got the ton of metal off his chest. That was when he finally passed out, and that wasn't exactly good news. Crush injuries most often killed when the crushing object was removed and all the compressed bleeders suddenly started flowing. The kid was crashing.

It took eight long minutes before they stabilized him enough for transport. When he and Georgie had done all they could for the moment, Ron finally took a moment to pat the kid's pockets down. He found a cell in the right one and fished it out. Didn't take long to find "Dean" in it. It wasn't really his job, but the sooner he could get someone there for the kid, the better.

His lips pressed together when he got voice mail, one without even a name on it. "My name's Ron, I'm a paramedic, and I'm looking for Dean? We're transporting Sam to Allentown Memorial. He's been in a serious accident and has been asking for you. Please come down as soon as you can."

Ron flipped the phone shut, glanced over as the kid managed to mumble a "Dee…" even though he should've been deeply under. Ron shook his head. Dean probably wouldn't even get the message for a while. Probably some buddy who meant more to Sam than the other way around, but Ron hoped the guy would at least try to be there for his hurt friend.

And then the kid's vitals took another nosedive, and Ron dropped the thought and went back to work.

00000

The check-out line was long, but Tania didn't mind, not really. It meant people were reading, and that was always a good thing, right? She smiled as the next patron stepped up, a young boy with a stack of books on airplanes, and started scanning each one.

A cell phone began playing something that sounded like ancient rock music, and with a disapproving frown, she looked up, seeking the source. There, fifth down the line and…wow. Hottie. Didn't see enough of those at the public library. Tania smiled brightly at him as he looked up, before remembering why she'd sought him out in the first place. He had the phone in his hand, and she gave him a regretful shake of the head.

With a charmingly sheepish grin, he stuck it back into his pocket, and Tania melted a little. Geez, he had a killer smile.

Airplane kid taken care of, an old man was next, with a couple books on… She raised her eyebrows at him, and he winked back at her. Eew. She checked him out quickly, went on to the mom and baby behind him. But her eyes kept straying to _him. _

He was watching her, too, Tania knew it, and she mentally ran through the library's policy on dating again. You could be asked but not ask, and of course, you couldn't do special favors for anyone. Right, like he'd ask her to borrow some of their old reference books or something. She could provide _plenty _of reference herself just fine.

The mom was done. A teen girl with a handful of romances next, then the McHottie. Tania was free that evening. Scotty had said he might stop by, but it wasn't like they were together or anything.

The guy's phone chirped again, this time with a message. He was still smiling at her, eyes suggesting all kinds of wicked things, and she was amazed to feel herself blush. She pretended not to watch him dig his phone out to check his message, as she scanned the romance novels. Normally, she'd read the backs, see if they were ones she'd read already, but she had her own little romance brewing right here, thank you very much. And the long-haired Fabios on the covers had nothing on this guy.

His smile suddenly vanished, eyes going distant. What…?

Romance-girl finished, it was his turn, but he didn't have any books. Which would have been even better, except the way he was ignoring her now was anything but sexy. He looked distracted, kinda upset. The phone message, maybe?

"You know where Allentown Memorial is?" he asked her sharply, phone still at his ear.

"What? No," Tania stammered. "Uh, maps are—" She pointed. And just like that, he was gone.

Tania stared after him, dismayed. Figured. He was too good to be true; he'd probably just been flirting with her to pass the time. Jerk. She hoped his stupid memorial was worth it. Probably meeting his girl there, or somebody just as conceited as he was.

Sniffing, she turned back to the next person in line, and suddenly smiled. Ooh, hello, blond college guy!

00000

The morning had sucked. Lemons. Out loud. Or…something like that. It was a little hard to keep up with the kids' colorful expressions these days. Ridiculous slang.

The phone rang again and, yes, it was about the tenth call in as many minutes asking for the status of a patient. Didn't people read the newspaper these days? HIPAA didn't let them give out that kind of information anymore, not without proof of who was asking. Honestly, Jan wished sometimes they could just stick one of those automatic recordings on the line and let it tell callers what she could recite in her sleep now. Those tapes seemed good enough for her bank and insurance company and just about anyone she did business with these—

The door by her station slammed open, and she frowned. Oh, Lord, another one. She was already rising to her feet as the young man hurried up to her counter.

"I need to find Sam. Uh, Sam Page."

"And you are…?" she asked coolly.

His eyes narrowed. "Somebody who needs to see Sam. Now."

So that was how it was going to be. "I'm sorry," Jan dropped her voice to even more frigid levels, "the law requires that I—"

He smacked the counter, making her jump, and cursed. "I don't have time for this, lady. You tell me where Sam is right now or, so help me, I'll find him myself."

He looked…feral. Jan felt an unusual thrill of fear run through her, and fumbled for the security button. It wouldn't be the first time some madman from the street had wondered into the hospital and, really, they should put better security at the front desk. This was dangerous. "Fine," she said, trying not to let her voice tremble. "Sam…"

"Page." The young man backed off fractionally, and Jan collected herself, sitting down. Security was fast, at least. All she had to do was buy herself a few seconds. She put the patient's name in idly, wincing a little when she saw his status was in surgery with a room order for ICU afterward. Not good. And not something she wanted to be telling the man simmering in front of her. He was like a pressure cooker waiting to burst, and Jan wondered for a second if she'd remembered to turn on the pot roast before she left the house…

Brian from Security appeared around the corner, and Jan took a deep breath, smiling with just a little triumph at the threatening young man.

He had already noticed Brian, too, and anger and perhaps even fear followed disbelief across his face. "Son of a…" He turned to her, gave her a sneer. "Lady, you're a piece of work, you know that?" He leaned forward suddenly, making her jump back, heart speeding up.

Brian broke into a jog over the young man's shoulder, but Jan knew he'd be too late.

"Thank you for your help," the stranger said with unnecessary sarcasm, and then he was gone, the door swinging in his wake.

Jan swallowed, rubbing damp palms against her uniform as she stared after him.

"Ms. Bell?" Brian skidded up to the counter. Too late, of course. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, and shook her head. Honestly. They didn't teach these young people any respect these days. This Sam of his was probably a fellow drug-user or something. Rude, selfish kids, all of them.

The phone rang again, and with a sigh of exasperation, Jan forgot about the young wild man and answered long-sufferingly, "Allentown Memorial, how may I help you?"

00000

Another day, another three coronaries, a T.I.A., two strokes, and an internal bleed. Paul sighed to himself and signed off on the last one, giving Peggy some orders as he did. Rumor had it a drunk driver was responsible for the last, and he'd seen enough pickled livers and Kawasaki cases to hate alcohol even without it putting young people in the hospital. Sometimes he had to have a few drinks after work just to forget as much.

Paul turned back to the doorway of the cubicle, to find with a start that he had company.

He was pretty sure he hadn't seen the young man before, but it wasn't hard to figure out who he was. Between the white-knuckled grip he had on the partition, the bloodless face that accentuated his freckles, and the stare he had focused on the patient, Paul was guessing family. About time. Except…

Paul frowned at him. "Sir? You're not supposed to be here."

It took a second, then the dazed eyes flicked up to him. Hazel, much like the bloodshot ones Paul had been peering into a minute before, and he reaffirmed his theory about it being a relative, probably a brother. Lightheaded, if the fine sweat and pale complexion was any sign.

Paul reached out for him, pulled him unresistingly to the lone chair beside the bed. "Sir? Are you all right? Any dizziness, buzzing in your ears?"

"What?" He seemed to shake off his shock. "No, I'm fine. How's Sam?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Paul repeated patiently.

Amazing how quickly the faint voice could harden. "He's my brother. How is he?"

Paul pressed his lips together in disapproval; Peggy's people should never have let him through in the first place. But since he was there… "Mr. Page has extensive bruising all over his body and some abrasions on his legs and arms. But the greatest injuries were to his chest. It seems the weight of the car was centered there, and there were multiple fractured ribs that collapsed a lung, his liver ruptured, his heart was stressed, and there was considerable internal bleeding."

"Oh, God." The dazed look was back, and Paul had lost his audience. The new arrival only had eyes for the figure on the bed—Sam—and he tentatively reached out, hand hovering above the bruised forehead, skimming the bandaged upper arm, finally crumpling a handful of Sam's sheet. "Is he…?"

Paul figured that was meant for him. "We're still working on stabilizing him, but things look promising. Surgery went smoothly, he's in good shape, and he's been fighting hard."

The shadow of a smile. "Yeah, he's stubborn like that."

Paul pursed his lips; civilians always oversimplified things. "Sir, you really need to check in at the nurses' station. You're supposed to be wearing a badge, and there are visiting hours—"

"I'm not leaving him."

He swallowed a sigh. God save them from family members who thought they were indispensable. "Sir—"

"Dean."

Paul nodded. "Dean. He won't be conscious for some time. He won't even know you're here," he said slowly and clearly. Did the guy even understand how serious an injury like this could be?

Dean's jaw shifted. "He was…he was calling for me, out there. He had a friggin' car sitting on his chest, and he wanted _me_." He looked up, pinning Paul with a sharp, suspiciously bright-eyed gaze. "I'm not leaving him."

Paul grimaced. He could call security. Or just talk to Peggy, have her take care of it. The nurses could be very persuasive. But either would put up a fuss and the patient needed rest and it was the end of the day and Paul was tired. Frankly, it wasn't worth the effort. If the guy wanted to be stubborn, as long as it didn't negatively impact a patient, Paul wouldn't argue it.

"Fine, just…stay out of the nurses' way."

A curt nod. Paul made another face and moved toward the cubicle door. He'd still have to tell Peggy, and could just imagine her response.

Behind him, the pulse-ox monitor dropped, slowing and steadying. Paul turned back with a frown to look at the readings, then at his patient.

Dean had apparently gotten over his fear of contact and had his hand wrapped around the patient's forearm, fingers moving almost in rhythm to the monitor.

Paul shook his head. Probably thought he could coax his brother back to health just by being there. Stubborn kids. Always thought they knew better than modern medicine.

Paul snapped the clipboard shut, dropping it in its slot on the way out and giving Peggy a few last instructions. He had a long drive home still ahead of him and he wanted to make it before rush hour.

00000

He was floating.

There was pain below the surface; he caught echoes of it sometimes, momentary flashes. But still he drifted above, untouched, unanchored.

Alone and suddenly very scared.

One flinch, and he wasn't adrift anymore. Just the opposite: he was being sucked down, weighted. His body refused to move, and his panic soared higher. "Deean," he slurred instinctively, before brain could even process the wish, eyes could pry open, or hand could do more than twitch. "Deean."

Sounds next to him, then a soft, "Hey, kiddo. I'm here." A cool hand wound around his, pressing his palm, another sliding under his hair to rest on his forehead. A rough thumb stroked his temple: hallmarks of his brother. Dean was with him.

The fear backed off a little, still present because he could barely feel his body and Dean was being too gentle and it was all adding up to bad news. His throat didn't quite work, the words garbled, but he tried anyway. "Wha…?"

"You got creamed by a runaway car, dude, on a sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. That's twice now you've gone up against a car and lost—I swear, Sammy, even as a kid, you always had to learn things the hard way."

He frowned. "Sorrrry."

The edge of Dean's hand smoothed the furrow away. "Don't. It's not your fault. Just get better, okay? You know how much I hate hospitals."

His mouth twitched maybe; his face still felt like it wasn't there. He didn't feel anything but Dean's hands, as a matter of fact. Wasn't that a bad thing?

"You're gonna be all right, Sammy, everything's just a little numb from the drugs and the surgery. Just need to rest right now. I've got everything covered."

The fear receded altogether, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. He wanted to see Dean, but his eyes were too heavy and he was too tired. It got even harder to think when Dean's hands slid lower, soothing cool over his burning eyelids. Sam sighed, slowly surrendering to the demands of his brother and his body.

"That's it, get some sleep. I'm here now."

Some very distant memory stirred at that, and was gone just as quickly. He should say something now, tease Dean for being so touchy-feely. But his brother's hands and voice were too reassuring, and Sam's brain was shutting down too fast. He just sighed again, rolling his heavy head into Dean's palm, and hoped that said enough.

His family was there, and that was all Sam needed.

**The End**


End file.
